


The Spectrum Of Bad Ideas

by bomberqueen17



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Face Slapping, Hux POV, M/M, Poe Dameron: Space Latino, barfight, erotic bruising, hatefucking, negotiated boundaries, safeish sex, youthful indiscretions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6644221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bomberqueen17/pseuds/bomberqueen17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man grinned. “No,” he said, “it’s a terrible idea, but those are my specialty. They rent rooms over there, no questions asked, a buddy of mine used it last month when he was in town and picked up a nasty case of the clap, but that ain’t the inn’s fault.” He gestured with his cigarette. “You look like you’re into some sick shit, man, but you also don’t look like you’re gonna give me the clap, so on the spectrum of bad ideas you’re like a five.”<br/>“I look like I’m into some sick shit,” Hux repeated carefully, both eyebrows up now. “Do I look like I’m in the habit of visiting hourly rate inns with disreputable strangers?”<br/>“I ain’t a stranger,” the man said, “I’ve punched you in the face at least twice, that puts us way past strangers.”<br/>“Five out of what?” Hux asked. “I’m just curious as to your scale of bad idea evaluation.”<br/>“Five out of ten,” the man said, like it was obvious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spectrum Of Bad Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as [a snippet on Tumblr](http://bomberqueen17.tumblr.com/post/139123646049/space-latinxs-snippet-1-experimental-so-heres), relating to Poe's ethnicity; he tells a story about how once, as a very young officer, he'd provoked a bar fight with the First Order on leave on some backwater planet by pretending he did not speak any Basic, and flirting outrageously with their officer in Iberican (my version of Space Spanish).  
> In the Tumblr fic, Poe laughs at the suggestion that he might have actually hooked up with said officer. But. The cunning and wise Deputychairman suggested, what if he _had_? And I thought... what if he had?
> 
> I was going to rewrite that snippet as this intro, but I kept just winding up telling the story twice, and where's the fun in that? Instead I present to you this: Poe lied, telling the story.  
> Talk to me-- why did he lie? Does Finn find out he lied? Tell me about this. I already have a sequel in the works but I haven't made up my mind about everything. I'm trying to decide whether Finn understands why he lied or not-- or if he never tells Finn, or what.

 

For a young officer whose training had largely consisted of simulations, Hux was finding it unexpectedly exhilarating to be in a real fight. The little New Republican shit who’d been taunting him (a dark-haired, dark-eyed, unfairly beautiful Navy pilot who’d been ludicrously feigning total ignorance of Basic to mock the First Order troops in the shitty little bar) was clearly not mostly trained on simulations, though Hux couldn’t help but wonder if the fellow’s training had perhaps been largely extracurricular in this matter.

Hux got in a few good hits, got hit a couple of times, tasted his own blood for real (which he _had_ done before, much of his own extracurricular training also had not been in simulation), and got really into it. Simulations gave you the muscle memory and some of the adrenaline, but not all of it. This was exciting.

The sides were somewhat evenly-matched, as it turned out-- numerically, and in strength-- but the Fleet crew seemed to have a slight advantage in knowledge of the terrain and also in unit cohesiveness. They clearly all knew each other and were in on the joke. And so, at some signal Hux didn’t catch, they all split off and abandoned the fight at the same time.

Except his particular tormenter, who landed one last hit, hauled Hux up by the collar, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. Hux was too dazed to process it, but there was definitely tongue-- the little shit absolutely licked Hux’s split lip, and gave him a filthy wink, tongue between his teeth as he pulled away and followed his companions.

“Lieutenant,” one of the noncoms said, scrambling to his feet. “Should we pursue?”

“No,” Hux said, coming back to himself enough to figure out what the Fleet crew’s cue had been, “we should scatter, I think those are guardsmen.”

The civil guard patrol in this spaceport frowned on barfights that lasted long enough for them to be obligated to notice, and Hux did not fancy explaining himself. He collected himself quickly, and licked at his cut lip as he put his uniform hastily to rights.

He’d be sore tomorrow, which didn’t happen with any but the most rigorous of sims.

He looked forward to it.

 

And it would have ended there, if it weren’t the case that Hux had excellent night vision, and a good eye for faces, and also had gotten plenty of opportunity to study the face of his tormenter over the course of the evening. So he very, very easily recognized the man, some time later, standing on a street corner trying to light a cigarette and failing because of the wind.

A quick study of the surroundings told Hux that, like himself, the man was alone, having apparently likewise split off from his companions. Hux stepped up next to him and offered him his own sparklighter, which was windproof, already struck and flaming.

“Thanks,” the man said, and lit his cigarette, then looked up at Hux.

“Don’t you mean gracias?” Hux asked, raising an eyebrow. The man had, after all, spent the entire evening dedicatedly pretending to have not a single word of Basic, and attempting to elaborately woo Hux anyway in a dialect he recognized as Iberican solely because Iberican-language holodramas were so popular on most of the planets he’d spent any time on.

Hux had pried out the translator chips and given himself a functional grounding in the spoken language out of sheer boredom. It had not proved useful, and he did not admit to knowing it. It wasn’t the sort of thing a command-track engineer needed on his curriculum vitae, and including it would have given the wrong impression.

(It turned out, however, that Iberican was closely related to one of the ancestor dialects of Basic, in fact was much more faithful to it, and a working knowledge of Iberican could get you quite far through the study of various very esoteric ancient texts that some of the very-well-educated discussed among themselves, and Hux was debating doing the work it would take to know more about it on the off-chance it proved advantageous. He hadn’t decided, and hadn’t been bored enough anyway.)

The man grinned, and even though he was young, within a couple of years of Hux’s own age, there were already crinkles at the corners of his eyes from laughing, or perhaps sun exposure. “That shit was hilarious,” he said, and of course, he had a perfectly reasonable accent, vaguely Corellian, maybe a little more provincial. Not that Hux was a connoisseur of accents, of course; that also was not the sort of thing a command-track engineer put on his curriculum vitae either. Particularly not when said engineer’s first major course of study had been eradication of his own decidedly non-Core Worlds accent. No, he pretended not to notice them at all.

“It could have been much better-done,” Hux said. He dug out his own cigarettes, and lit one. “I suppose it depends on what you were trying to accomplish. If a bar fight is what you wanted, then you succeeded, although I’ll have you know the others were eager to do you, personally, great violence had they succeeded in subduing you.”

“Oh,” the man said, “I know, they were talking about it straight to my face because they seemed to actually believe I didn’t understand Basic. They offered me some quite shocking suggestions.”

“Of course you understood Basic,” Hux said, annoyed. “They knew that. They were trying to get a rise out of you.”

“No,” the man said, “some of them were pretty sure I didn’t. I got some really interesting insights once they mentally checked me off.”

“You couldn’t hold a commission in the New Republican Fleet if you didn’t have at least a working knowledge of Basic,” Hux said. “My men aren’t that stupid.”

“Oh,” the man said, “they are. Tell me, Lieutenant, if the First Order’s only got three Regulator-class cruisers, like the Concordance states, why has Orenthon served on four different ones, each of which he mentioned by name?”

“Because Orenthon is a dipshit,” Hux said, “who couldn’t identify the Regulator from a lineup.” Which was true, but it was also true that Orenthon had served on four, because the Concordance was a joke.

“Seemed pretty convincing to me,” the man said. “He was describing their different crew deck layouts. Lots of detail.”

“If you think the Republic doesn’t already know,” Hux said, managing a glimmer of amusement. “But point taken. Surely it would have been more efficient to try to seduce one of them?” He knew he himself hadn’t let anything slip, and wouldn’t.

Not that the stakes were high. They had all but explicit permission from the New Republic to do whatever they liked. Only idiots like this fellow cared.

“Oh,” the man said, “I don’t do that kind of thing. I’m not a spy or a whore.”

“Ah,” Hux said. Of course, the man hadn’t genuinely been trying to seduce him, he _had_ figured that out. “Forgive me for my confusion.”

The man blew smoke away, then turned to look up at him, squinting curiously. He was very pretty, big doe eyes and long lashes, and his very dark irises made his eyes seem even bigger, but his strong features kept him from being an effeminate kind of pretty. He had a great jawline and a very pretty mouth. “I _was_ kidding,” he said, “but maybe now I’m not.”

Hux wasn’t usually surprised by much, but he was now. He quirked an eyebrow. “You really think that would be a good idea.”

The man grinned. “No,” he said, “it’s a terrible idea, but those are my specialty. They rent rooms over there, no questions asked, a buddy of mine used it last month when he was in town and picked up a nasty case of the clap, but that ain’t the inn’s fault.” He gestured with his cigarette. “You look like you’re into some sick shit, man, but you also don’t look like you’re gonna give me the clap, so on the spectrum of bad ideas you’re like a five.”

“I look like I’m into some sick shit,” Hux repeated carefully, both eyebrows up now. “Do I look like I’m in the habit of visiting hourly rate inns with disreputable strangers?”

“I ain’t a stranger,” the man said, “I’ve punched you in the face at least twice, that puts us way past strangers.” He finished his cigarette and stubbed it out against the wall of the building, then field-stripped it and shoved the filter in his jacket pocket.

It said something about the man that he didn’t litter, Hux supposed.

“Five out of what?” Hux asked. “I’m just curious as to your scale of bad idea evaluation.”

“Five out of ten,” the man said, like it was obvious. “Where one is gentle protected sex with a nice girl you could introduce to your mother, and ten is getting your kidneys harvested and the rest of you sold into sex slavery.”

“Neither of those sounds appealing, though,” Hux said, nose crinkling.

“Aw,” the man said, “c’mon, gentle protected sex with nice girls is a very sweet way to spend an evening. I’d have to be a lot more sober than this, though.” He jerked his thumb toward the inn. “C’mon. Neutral territory. I won’t have sweet gentle sex with you and I won’t harvest any of your organs. Other than that I make no promises.”

“Well,” Hux said. “I’m not sure how I’m meant to refuse an offer like that.” He finished his cigarette and tossed it into the gutter. Those dark eyes didn’t fail to observe it, flicking to watch the glowing butt’s gentle arc. Shipboard, as Hux had spent a lot of his life, there’d be a receptacle and hell to pay for not using it. Planetside, Hux never worried about it. He resolved to consider what that said about him at a later date.

They had to pay for two hours up front. Hux coldly stared down the clerk, who didn’t seem to care. The pilot, for so he certainly was, paid for the room and bought a packet of condoms and lube, bold as brass and totally unashamed. He had the air of having done this before, possibly routinely. Hux wasn’t going to let on that this was approximately the least likely thing he could have come up with himself doing tonight if he’d deliberately sat down to do so. Fortunately, he was very good at looking bored and slightly disapproving, so he did that.

The room was small and dingy but had clearly been hosed down with disinfectant at some point in the recent past. There was a chair, a desk, a lamp, and a bed, and the bed was exactly twice the regulation width, and made up with the kind of blankets that you could wash frequently on high heat without changing their sandpaper-like texture at all. It was refreshingly familiar.

Hux had no idea what sort of “sick shit” he was meant to supply. Er, or demand. He was twenty-three years old, and his sexual relationships had consisted largely of encounters marked more by a uniting theme of being what he could get, rather than anything he particularly wanted. The freedom was a little bit dizzying to consider.

Honesty had never served him well, but directness had. “I admit, I am morbidly curious to know what manner of ‘sick shit’ you believe me to be ‘into’,” Hux said.

The pilot grinned as he shed his coat. Hux did likewise, draping it over the back of the chair next to the pilot’s, and was rewarded with the expected name-tape stitched into the jacket’s collar. “DAMERON”, it said. He folded his own coat so his name-tape didn’t show. If Dameron wanted to know his name, he’d have to ask.

“Well,” Dameron said, unlacing his boots, “I mean. You were pretty into hitting me, but you seemed even more into me hitting you, so. Clearly pain’s a thing. And I’m down, but man, ground rules okay-- no scars, all right?”

“Sounds reasonable,” Hux said, doing his level best not to look as utterly baffled as he felt. He’d really thought this was a sex thing, the condoms had definitely confirmed that, and he was absolutely lost as to how sex could leave scars if you did it wrong. He’d had some terrible sex but nothing had left marks. He pulled off his boots to cover his probably too-deep contemplation of the question.

“I’m clean for sure, and I bet you are, but condoms for penetration, okay? I’m not fucking around, not with the lecture we just went through when my buddy came back with the clap. Yes?” Dameron was unbuttoning his shirt, so Hux did too, more slowly.

“Fair,” Hux said. “Sensible, even. Are you sure this is a five?”

“Well,” Dameron said, “I’ve already tasted your blood, so I can’t say we got off to a sensible start. And I have no real idea whether you’re a man of honor. So it may be pointless to tell you my rules, if I can’t guarantee you’ll follow any of them.”

“I keep my word,” Hux said, drawing himself up a little and fixing Dameron with his coldest stare. And when had-- oh. The kiss. Hux licked at his split lip, which had stopped bleeding and only tasted faintly of copper. He’d assumed that was to mock him.

Dameron’s dark eyes were considering him solemnly, like they could see straight through him, but he suddenly grinned wickedly, tongue darting out mesmerizingly over his lower lip. “That’s what I mean,” he said. “That’s more like it. Hate me like that. C’mon, we had really good chemistry when you were being an insufferable prick and I was baiting you like an asshole.”

“I had wondered,” Hux said, with a flash of mingled amusement and relief, “what it is that you saw in me.” Insufferable prick he was used to. Being wanted, that wasn’t something he knew how to handle. But he was starting to catch on, he thought. Irritation was a form of attraction, in a way. Dameron hated him and wanted to have physically violent rough hate-sex with him, and that was something Hux had an approximate idea of how to do.

“You’re okay with whatever, though?” Dameron asked, narrowing his eyes. “Like, nothing off-limits?” Hux had no idea whatsoever how to respond to that, but apparently that was enough of an answer. “Or nobody ever asked before so you don’t know what your limits are.”

“Well,” Hux said.

“The second one,” Dameron concluded. He shucked his shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the chair, then pulled his undershirt off over his head, angling his hips invitingly. He was compact-built, lean and muscular, and even in the room’s shitty lighting his skin glowed with health and sun exposure. He’d clearly been planetside with his shirt off at some recent point. Hux hesitated, just for a moment, then shed his own shirt, folding it more carefully onto the chair.

Dameron stepped into his space, tilting his head back to look straight up into Hux’s face, and hooking a finger in Hux’s belt to yank him forward a little, pressing them body to body. Their mismatched heights meant that Hux’s sharp hipbone was surely digging into Dameron’s belly, but it didn’t seem to bother him. “Let’s just agree, then. We’re both here to get off, and we’re not gonna be gentle about it, but we both gotta report for duty tomorrow, eh? So let’s keep it to the kind of thing you can walk off, okay?’

“You already said no scars,” Hux reminded him, feeling like maybe this was getting redundant.

“No scars,” Dameron said, unfastening Hux’s belt, and then his own, “no sprains, no fractures, only superficial bruising, no organ damage, all right?”

“I think you’ve overestimated the kind of sick shit I’m into,” Hux said, and it was so ridiculous he had no choice but to be amused by it.

Dameron grinned. “I don’t think I have,” he said, and his belt buckle hit the floor with a solid thunk. “Listen. I like it either way, I don’t know how you do, hands or mouth or ass or whatever. I’ll fuck you if you want, but if you wanna fuck me, that’s on the table too. Just-- condom, and if I tell you to stop you gotta stop, even if you’re really into it, okay?”

“Okay,” Hux said, and now he was really into this, all of a sudden. He wanted-- “Yeah, I want that.”

Dameron’s expression went avid, eyes dark and eyelids heavy. “Tell me in words,” he said. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“I want to fuck you,” Hux said, and Dameron didn’t move but he felt that go through the other man’s body, somehow, a kind of-- vibration. It was hard to be sure, dark as his irises were, but his pupils might have dilated.

Dameron shoved his hands up under Hux’s undershirt, pushing it up his body. “Damage me and I’ll kill you,” he said, pulling Hux’s shirt up and off over his head, then added, “You wanna fuck me, you’re gonna have to make me take it.” His eyebrows quirked, all challenge.

Hux had a moment to recall that the guy could pretty definitely kick his ass in hand-to-hand, but he supposed anything worth having was worth fighting for. So he licked at his split lip, pretending to look thoughtful, and leaned down to gently take Dameron’s mouth with his. Dameron closed his eyes and opened his mouth into the kiss, clearly enjoying it. And it was good; Hux had only ever really kissed perfunctorily, and this was anything but-- Dameron’s mouth was warm, his lips soft and slick and thrillingly alive. It was heady, more intoxicating than the booze that had to be nearly worn off by now, and went straight to Hux’s dick. He’d been pretty turned-on before, but he was _really_ into it now.

Dameron nipped at Hux’s split lip, teasingly, sending a little jolt of pain through the cut. Hux flinched, and then used his shirt, still wrapped around his wrists, to catch both of Dameron’s hands as he shoved him backward with the leverage his height gave him. He got Dameron down onto the bed, and the tangle of the shirt let him hold both of Dameron’s wrists in position with one of his hands.

“Oh, you magnificent bastard,” Dameron said, catching him hard in the thigh with a glancing kick. Hux grunted at the pain-- that would leave a bruise-- and solidified his hold on Dameron’s wrists, shoving them up over his head and planting his weight on one hand to hold him down so he could get his other hand down to shove at Dameron’s pants. He could use those to immobilize Dameron’s legs.

There was no question the pilot was stronger than he was; the man might even outweigh him, despite being at least four inches shorter; clearly whatever it was the New Republic emphasized in their pilots’ training, it was more physical than the things the New Order encouraged its engineers to do in their physical training time. Dameron was a compact ball of lean muscle, and if his heart had really been in resisting, Hux wasn’t sure he’d’ve been able to hold him. But as it was, he didn’t do anything to change his angle, but strained ineffectively against the hold on his arms from a position that gave him the least possible mechanical advantage, while simultaneously showing off the lovely smooth curves of muscle in those arms.

He was really very, very, very pretty, and they were both breathing hard now, and Hux was as turned-on as he’d ever been in his life, but he knew he had to stay focused. Dameron might be letting him win, but if he didn’t make it convincing Hux had no doubt the fellow would turn the tables.

And while he didn’t intend to actually injure the man, he didn’t intend to give up that level of control to him either. They wrestled for a few more minutes, and Hux managed to consolidate his gains, but then Dameron worked a hand free and Hux had a bad couple of moments trying to subdue him again.

In sheer reflex he hit Dameron across the face, though he didn’t have time to get his fist properly formed, so it was open-handed, the backs of his knuckles hard against Dameron’s cheekbone, and Dameron made a little noise that could have been pain but was almost definitely arousal. Hux had Dameron’s trousers down around his hips by now, and his cock was pressed against the front of his undershorts so hard it was threatening to poke out the waistband.

Hux took advantage of Dameron’s distraction to pin his hands again, and said, “I don’t know why you’re bothering to fight me, when you clearly want it so badly.”

“You know what I want,” Dameron said, grinning. “I knew I could count on you.”

Hux leaned in and ground himself down against Dameron’s cock, groaning in the back of his throat at how good the pressure felt. Dameron’s face went slack and he pushed up against him, eyelashes fluttering down as he rolled his eyes a little. “You want me to fuck you,” Hux panted in his ear, low and hoarse, “I know you do.”

Dameron made a low sound, almost a moan. “You better follow through,” he said.

“Please,” Hux said, “I’m a master strategist.”

Dameron laughed. “Really?” he said, giving up on his half-hearted struggling for a moment.

“Yes really,” Hux said, “top of my class,” and took advantage of Dameron’s moment of pliability to jam his thigh between Dameron’s legs, shove him up the bed, and really wedge him into position so that his arms were actually stuck between his head and the headboard of the bed. Dameron’s eyes went a little wide as he figured out that his greater strength wasn’t actually going to do him a whole lot of good in this position, especially as Hux had managed to wrap his leg around so that Dameron couldn’t plant that heel against the bed and shove up.

“Shit,” Dameron said.

“Mm-hmm,” Hux said, almost sweetly. He still had to keep one hand braced against Dameron’s crossed arms, but he didn’t have to push very hard, and his other hand was free now, so he scratched his nails lightly down Dameron’s chest, and palmed his erection through his undershorts, sucking his own lip and making a point of looking leisurely and unhurried, admiring the expanse of Dameron’s body. “I’m not the most athletically gifted but I did all right at wrestling, too.”

“Well then,” Dameron said.

Hux bent his neck, lowering his head to bite at Dameron’s collarbone, first gently and then harder, until Dameron jerked up beneath him and made a more sincere effort to evade his teeth. “Ah-ah,” Hux said, applying enough pressure to Dameron’s arms to force him back down again. “I thought bruises were all right? I won’t break the skin, it might leave a scar and we don’t want that.”

“Hngh,” Dameron said, as Hux bit farther along his collarbone, hard enough to bring up a bruise immediately under his golden skin.

Hux rubbed his own erection along Dameron’s hip, holding him down, pinching a nipple between thumb and forefinger, really hard, before bringing his hand back down to the waistband of Dameron’s shorts. Dameron writhed, but couldn’t get any significant leverage, and Hux rather thought he was really trying now.

“If only I had some real restraints,” Hux said. “We could do a proper interrogation. Would you like that?”

“No,” Dameron said, “don’t get creepy.”

“Oh,” Hux said, “if you didn’t want creepy, you probably picked the wrong person. I suppose you misjudged what kind of sick shit I’m into.” And he grinned.

Dameron’s cock sure didn’t seem worried. It was hot and thick and very, very hard in Hux’s hand, and Dameron’s eyes rolled back a little as Hux got his hand down inside the undershorts and started working at it. “A solid five,” Dameron managed to say. “Standing by it.”

“How were your scores in tactics, at the Academy?” Hux asked. “I’m assuming you went to the Fleet Academy, you have the look.”

“There’s a look, huh,” Dameron said, shuddering a little as Hux bit down again, this time a little lower, just below his collarbone. The pain was doing it for him, or maybe the helplessness, or maybe he just really liked getting fucked; he was breathing hard and hitching up into Hux’s hand.

“Mm-hmm,” Hux said, sucking a bruise into Dameron’s pectoral muscle. “What if I leave bruises where they’ll show?”

“I’d be annoyed,” Dameron said, and sounded sort of disinterested. Hux would only do it if it was funny, then.

“You don’t know about our academies at all, do you,” Hux said.

“Since you’re basically a secret society,” Dameron said, “no, not really. I imagine if I did you’d have bigger problems than me knowing, yeah?”

“True,” Hux said. He pulled his hand out of Dameron’s underpants and set to working them down, which was tricky to do because he had to have his leg braced against Dameron’s ass to keep him from levering himself down and away from the headboard, freeing his hands. Hux managed, though.

“Uh,” Dameron said. “The lube’s, uh. In my pants pocket.”

“Convenient,” Hux said, as Dameron’s pants were still around his thighs. He didn’t have a strategy for how he was going to get them off him, but an opportunity would doubtless present itself. Dameron had already had his chance to get away, and was likely not going to try seriously again.

Hux got the little tube out, and got the cap off with his teeth, and tossed the tube down onto Dameron’s belly once he had some on his fingers. “I’d make you hold that in your mouth,” he said, “but I don’t know that you wouldn’t drop it.”

“Well,” Dameron said, “it’s not like I was going to yell for help.” He made a startled little noise as Hux worked a finger into his asshole without much preamble.

“It’s not like anyone would come for you if you did,” Hux pointed out reasonably, glad of the distraction of restraining Dameron with most of his attention. He hadn’t been on this end of things very often, and it wouldn’t do to fumble like a virgin. He knew how this worked, and he knew it was something that it was possible to enjoy very much, and he thought he would probably rather enjoy it if it were done with the aim of pleasing him, but in his experience it never had been. Nobody had ever tried to hurt him, and in fact everyone had been quite eager to make sure that nobody got permanently damaged by anything, but there wasn’t a lot of attention paid to making it actually _good_.

Even then, it was still better than nothing, and to have that kind of attention paid to him was better than no attention at all. But Hux had always been intrigued by the idea he’d mostly encountered in stories, that doing this sort of thing to someone in a way that they enjoyed could make them emotionally vulnerable to you. It was easy to break someone through fear and humiliation, and brutalize them so they submitted to you, but he wanted to own someone’s vulnerability. That seemed like it would be much more rewarding.

So he bit down hard on Dameron’s abused collarbone as he shoved in a second finger, and Dameron cried out hoarsely, shivering. “Fuck,” Dameron said, as Hux moved his hand more gently, letting go with his mouth and licking over the bruise.

Hux had long fingers, which had been remarked upon before as a promising sign. He’d never put them to much of this sort of use, but he had seen enough salubrious holovids to know at least vaguely what the comments had been referring to. As a recipient, this part of the process had mostly been focused on making sure that whatever penetrated him could do so without causing too much damage, but there was clearly more to it than that if one was willing to expend a little more effort. So he set to work, experimenting, and it didn’t take him very long to figure out what that was all about. Dameron was gratifyingly responsive, struggling a little now and then but mostly shoving down against his hand and making quiet but intense noises.

He was so pretty, was the thing, with a strong jaw and a curving mouth and a bold, direct gaze-- he was attractive and he was charismatic and he was quick-witted and capable. Hux wanted to get as much of him as he could. And that meant making it good.

“I’m going to get you off so hard you never forget me,” Hux told him, and Dameron whined so low in his chest it was almost a growl.

“Big words,” Dameron said, a little breathless.

“I’m a man of my word,” Hux said. Two fingers wasn’t enough, but he wasn’t sure how to make the transition to three. It was crucial that he not injure Dameron, for this plan to succeed. He scissored his fingers, doing his best to make it good, and it seemed to be working pretty well, but he was going to have to get more lube and also, somehow, a condom, unless he wanted to really test how Dameron responded to his boundaries being violated. Dameron still might like it, still might get off, but it seemed a complicating factor.

So he focused for a little bit on fucking Dameron with his fingers as well as he could, marking up that collarbone with his teeth and lips, until Dameron was hitching and gasping against his hand. “Fuck,” Dameron said, “fuck,” and Hux was starting to wonder if the Navy pilot could get off this way, because there really seemed to be something to it.

“If you want me to fuck you we may have to declare a truce,” Hux admitted, “because I think I’m at the limit of what I can do with only one hand free.”

“Fuck,” Dameron said, breathing hard.

“If you agree to stay precisely where I put you,” Hux said, “I’ll give you what you want, as hard as you want it. But if you’re only going to escape if I let go, then this is going to have to go a much less agreeable direction.” He curled his fingers mercilessly, dragging them over the part of Dameron’s interior that seemed to have a direct line to the pleasure centers of his nervous system.

Dameron twitched and whined a little, as vocal as he’d let himself be through this entire encounter. “Fuck,” he said.

“If you don’t stay put, though,” Hux said, “I can’t promise you’ll like what I do. I might not fuck you at all. How willing are you to risk that?”

Dameron whined again as Hux worked him over with his hand. “Fuck,” he said again.

“You want it,” Hux said. “You want my cock.”

“I do,” Dameron admitted, with an affecting little shudder as Hux’s fingers got him just right again.

“I can only give it to you if you’re good,” Hux said reasonably. “Won’t you be good for me?”

“I’m not your pet,” Dameron said, collecting himself for a moment before Hux’s fingers scattered much of his self-control again. It was so rewarding, doing that to him. “Oh fuck. Hngh, fuck.”

“Of course not,” Hux said. “But will you stay where I put you? I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll make it so good for you.” He was working Dameron over mercilessly from the inside, and the pilot’s breath was coming fast, body hitching.

“Okay,” Dameron said breathlessly. “Okay.”

“If you move your hands,” Hux said, “I won’t fuck you.”

“Okay,” Dameron said, and focused on him with some difficulty. His eyebrows pulled together, a line appearing between them that was sort of unfairly attractive. “This is me being really stupid,” he said.

“Maybe it’s just you being an effective negotiator,” Hux said sweetly, giving Dameron a last lascivious stroke before pulling his fingers out slowly, as he pulled his other hand away from where it was braced against Dameron’s arms to hold them. Dameron made a strangled little noise and wriggled, but his hands stayed put exactly where they were.

“Don’t wriggle away either,” Hux said. “I mean it. I want to fuck you, but I have excellent self-discipline and I’m sure I can think of something else to do if you don’t hold up your end of this bargain.”

“I feel like the goalposts moved,” Dameron said, but didn’t move. Hux pulled Dameron’s pants and underwear down off of him, and the pilot was naked now. He had great legs, leanly-muscled, thighs appealingly curved.

“Stars,” Hux said, “you’re really quite unfairly attractive. I suppose you get a lot of salacious offers.”

“I don’t take most of the ones I get,” Dameron said. “You should be flattered.”

“Well,” Hux said, and smiled wolfishly as he found the condoms in the pocket of Dameron’s shed trousers. He opened the box and pulled one out. He’d never used one. There were directions on the box. He paused to read it, watching Dameron with half his attention; the man was squirming a little, but was remaining obediently still. “Not everyone can indulge your desire for, what was it? Sick shit? Sick shit the way I surely can.”

“It’s not that,” Dameron said. Hux stepped back between his thighs, and set the condom down next to the container of lube that was still sitting on Dameron’s flat, muscled stomach. “Okay,” Dameron conceded, “fine, it’s that.”

“You’re holding yourself down,” Hux pointed out. “I’m not even doing this.” He slowly unfastened his belt buckle, pulled his belt out, and wrapped it around Dameron’s wrists, fastening them to the headboard of the bed. Leaning to do this brought his face closer to Dameron’s, and he could see the other man’s trepidation, but Dameron didn’t stop him.

“This is a terrible fucking idea,” Dameron said quietly.

“It is,” Hux said. “You’re smarter than you look.” He fastened the belt buckle. “But now you don’t have to hold yourself down.” He lingered with his face close to Dameron’s, not quite kissing him, but close enough that he could have. Dameron turned his face toward him, seeking, and Hux kept just enough space between them to avoid contact. It was almost as intimate as a kiss, breathing one another’s breath, but not quite; not quite, no skin contact.

“If I fuck up your belt, won’t you get in trouble for messing up your uniform?” Dameron asked, voice so low it was little more than a murmur.

“I have a spare,” Hux said. “If I hurt you so you can’t report for duty, you’ll surely get worse than that.” He pulled away, and unfastened his trousers. “But I told you I wouldn’t, and then I told you I was a man of my word, so you made your decision accordingly.”

Dameron watched him, dark eyes unreadable. Hux left his trousers around his hips, and licked at his swollen cut lip, looking Dameron over. “You want this to hurt,” Hux said. “You want to regret this. You want to be a little bit afraid. I see what decisions you’ve made to get here.”

Dameron’s expression didn’t change, and he watched impassively as Hux put his hand into his own underwear and gave his long-neglected erection a couple of firm strokes. Hux sized him up, deliberating about his next course of action. He wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to keep up the actual fucking part; he had little experience at it and from his fingers’ sojourn he knew it was really hot and tight in there. So he was going to need to rely on build-up, but not so much that he lost Dameron’s trust that he’d follow through.

That was the thing. If he hurt Dameron, the pilot had the look of someone who knew how to endure. He was young, younger than Hux, but somewhere along the line he’d learned how to put his head down and get through things. Hux wasn’t totally confident in this analysis, but he felt like he had a good read even if he couldn’t be totally sure he wasn’t projecting what he wanted.

He had a lot of practice at reading people, was the thing. So he probably wasn’t wrong.

He pulled his hand out of his pants and backhanded Dameron across the face, solidly but not too hard. Dameron took it silently, but his body shook. Hux followed it up by clamping his fingers around Dameron’s jaw and leaning in again, looking intently into his face.

Dameron’s pupils were dilated, and his breath was coming fast; he was probably more aroused than terrified. He still thought he could get out of being tied up if he had to, still had some residual confidence in his ability to outmatch Hux in a fight. Hux reached down and very gently caressed Dameron’s balls, cradling them in his palm, watching Dameron’s face. “You don’t think this is that bad an idea,” Hux said softly.

“I’m pretty definitely thinking with my dick, though,” Dameron said, with a flash of humor. He strained against the belt, just a little, testingly. He was strong enough, Hux thought, eyeing the belt, that he could probably pop the catch of the belt, or-- no, it was the headboard that would give first, the metal slats secured by screws through sheet metal that’d shear under any real strain.

But someone with as much hand-to-hand experience as Dameron surely must have would know that freeing himself would take long enough that he’d get pretty battered before he could defend himself. No, that wasn’t it. He really didn’t think Hux would hurt him?

Hux squeezed a little tighter, then moved his hand up to wrap it around Dameron’s cock instead. Dameron’s eyes fluttered shut at the pressure, hips twitching; he was really turned-on.

“Your friends know where you are,” Hux concluded as it came to him in a flash of insight. “You have some sort of code with them. That’s it. You have a contingency plan.” The pilot had requested a particular room number, had pointed at the board with the room keys on it and said _that one_ , and Hux hadn’t seen it at the time as anything more than a minor display of power over the clerk. But he’d picked this room for a reason. “Either someone you trust is in the next room,” Hux said, “or they’re somewhere they can keep watch.”

That was absolutely it; Dameron gave him a look, both eyebrows going up. “Aren’t yours?” he asked, keeping his composure really well.

Hux smiled. “I did my own deductions,” he said. “You do yours. I’m just trying to guage how afraid of me you are. I don’t think you’re analyzing the threat as clearly as I am.”

“Do you usually do this level of analysis on everyone you fuck?” Dameron asked. “Because I don’t know if you’ve profiled me accurately.”

“Mm,” Hux said, rather than answering that. “We’ll find out if I’m wrong. I rarely am but I do treasure it as a learning experience, when it happens.”

“Really now,” Dameron said, amused.

Hux backhanded him again; the trick was to hurt him enough to turn him on but not enough to get him so mad he broke out of the mood. Dameron’s eyes were black, black, black as he opened them, his mouth open a little, watching Hux hungrily. Hux sucked on his cut lip and put the condom on, slicking himself up, then applied more lubricant to his fingers and pushed them into Dameron’s asshole, not gently but without particular violence.

He wanted to say something dismissive about Dameron doing this a lot, but he wasn’t confident enough in his analysis of that to say either way. “It would be a waste to damage you,” he settled on saying at last. “But you like the idea that I might.”

“Like is too strong a word,” Dameron said tightly.

Hux grinned in delight. “You’re getting off on the thought that I might,” he said. “It is different, you’re right.”

“I really,” Dameron said, expression going a little glazed, “really think you should--”

“You know it’s not your verbal wit I’m here for,” Hux said. He pulled his fingers out and slid his cock into position instead, and carefully pressed in, slow and deliberate but relentless. He knew it was just a matter of steady persistence and some patience. Dameron threw his head back and made a strangled, intense little noise, and Hux bit down on his own lip and focused, pushing in.

“Oh fuck,” Dameron said, thin and thready, “oh-- _fuck_ \--”

Biting his lip wasn’t helping, so Hux opened his eyes instead and watched Dameron’s wrists twisting against the belt at the headboard, and tried to calculate whether the man actually would break the belt. He didn’t really have a spare; that had been a bluff. Dameron was staring blankly up at the ceiling, mouth open, struggling to breathe, and Hux carefully fitted his hand around the pilot’s throat, not pressing down but holding just tightly enough for Dameron to notice.

And Dameron certainly noticed. He sucked in a gasp and shuddered, really excitingly. Hux undulated his spine a little, settling himself into position; he was as deep in the other man’s body as he was going to get, and it was just about as great as he’d expected, and it was going to be really difficult to keep from coming pretty much instantly, so he held still. “Is that what you wanted?” he asked, doing his best to look unmoved.

“Fuck,” Dameron said, pressing his thighs into Hux’s hips. “Oh, fuck. Yes.”

Hux pressed his fingers down a little. He knew that if you had to use your hands to strangle someone, pressing down on the blood vessels at the side of the neck was more effective than trying to crush the windpipe. And he didn’t want Dameron dead. He didn’t even want him unconscious. So he only squeezed just the tiniest bit. “I don’t think I’ll hurt you,” he said, and he had enough control of himself now, so he pulled out a little bit and thrust back in, rocking his hips a little, and Dameron made a strangled little whimper. “You’re so pretty, I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to possess you completely. Will you let me? If I hurt you just enough?”

“Shit,” Dameron gasped, and Hux let up the pressure of his fingers, keeping his palm gentle against Dameron’s windpipe. He slid his fingers over to check Dameron’s pulse instead, pushing up under the jaw; Dameron’s heart was hammering, visible between his collarbones in a frantic little flutter.

“Oh, you like that,” Hux murmured, rocking his hips a little harder. Dameron hadn’t yet successfully focused his eyes. This was going well. “If the Republic falls at least you’ll have a trade to fall back on. Aren’t you precious. You’d fetch a pretty penny.”

“Fuck you,” Dameron said, eyes glazed.

“I’d love to have the leisure to mark you up,” Hux said. “Bruise you with my teeth, all down your thighs. Marks from my fingers around your throat. My nails in your back.” He thrust harder, and Dameron was panting with it, a little voice in his breath. “Exquisite.”

He pressed down on the sides of Dameron’s throat again, right up under the jaw, and Dameron’s eyes rolled back a little, his body twitching, thighs taut around Hux’s waist. And oh, the hot slick harbor of his body; he was clamping down there too, as if to suck Hux in deeper, and it was almost too much to bear. “I’d have to have you helpless, of course,” Hux said. “At my mercy, to hurt you, to control you, just as I pleased, for as long as I wanted, with no one to come for you. I could keep you forever like that, you know.”

Dameron actually whimpered, and Hux released some of the pressure from his neck, wrapping his other hand around Dameron’s cock instead. “Oh fuck,” Dameron said, high and thin, “oh fuck, oh-- fuck--” He was close, certainly, and Hux squeezed down on his neck again.

He knew firsthand that it really sucked to come with someone’s dick in your ass and have them keep fucking you. He might anyway. Dameron was right on the edge, shivering. Hux himself was getting close, but simultaneous orgasms were pretty exclusively the province of pornography. But as he considered that, he came up with something else, and the thought pleased him so much he bent down and bit Dameron’s jaw, hard enough to bruise. Hux let up on his throat and jerked his cock, and Dameron cried out and went stiff, shuddering and shuddering as he came all over Hux’s hand. Hux growled into his ear, and only pulled his teeth out of the hinge of that beautiful jaw as Dameron subsided, gasping for breath.

“You filthy whore,” Hux said, and Dameron shivered. “Look at you. You’re filthy.” He straightened up. Dameron had come so hard he’d splattered semen all up his own chest. Hux let go of his cock and wiped his hand off on Dameron’s belly, and pulled out slowly. “Is this what you wanted? If only we had all night. If only there were more of us. We could all fuck you. Take turns on you like the whore you are. Carve our names in your back.” He pulled the condom off. “Is that the kind of sick shit you wanted from me?”

“Fuck,” Dameron said, and Hux was kind of amused that it seemed to be the only word the mouthy pilot knew now.

Hux jerked himself off, standing over the pilot’s fucked-out body. “You’re a mess,” he said, and climbed up onto the bed, straddling Dameron’s waist. “Your friends all think you’re so wholesome, don’t they? I bet they do. You’re so clean-cut and square-jawed. You’re the hero of the story, and they all look up to you, and really you’re a fucked-up mess of a kid, and you want me to fuck you up so bad that they can see it. That’s what you want.”

Dameron groaned wordlessly, and the plaintive, unfocused look he gave Hux was enough; Hux came, and had enough self-possession left to aim for the pilot’s throat. He got him in the face and chest, and reached down and wrapped his hand around his throat again, rubbing it in and pressing down against the blood vessels again, just enough to make Dameron gasp and struggle under him.

“You’re so filthy,” Hux panted, and reached down with his sticky hand to smudge it across Dameron’s cheek. “You wish they could all see you like this. You wish they knew.”

Dameron stared up at him, pupils huge, mouth slightly open. That had gone better than Hux had expected. Best to make an expeditious getaway. His whole body was still zinging with sensation from orgasm, though. That had been pretty intense.

“You’ll think about me,” Hux said. “The next time some really wholesome girl wants to introduce you to her mother. The next time some clean-cut rules-following type refuses to pull your hair during a blowjob because it wouldn’t be nice.” He climbed off of Dameron, and pulled his pants back up, then bent over to trail his fingers through the smears of semen on Dameron’s torso. “I wish I hadn’t been bluffing about the belt. I’d love to leave you like this, tied up, and call your friends in to let you loose so they can see you like this.”

“I knew you were bluffing,” Dameron said, laughing breathlessly.

Hux wiped his fingers in Dameron’s hair, calculatedly to enrage him. “Maybe,” he said, tangling his fingers into the formerly-carefully-styled curls and pulling, “maybe they’d see you like this and get ideas, Dameron. Maybe they’d see what a slut you are. Maybe they’d all take turns on you too. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Hnghh,” Dameron said, and Hux tightened his grip on the pilot’s hair, putting his other hand back around his neck. He squeezed hard, but briefly-- just enough that it might leave a bruise, but not so much that it would actually render the pilot unconscious.

“You’re the one who’s into the sick shit,” Hux said, satisfied, and unfastened his belt with a deft pull. Dameron sat up instantly, but uncoordinatedly.

“Come here, you ass,” Dameron said, grabbing Hux by the back of the neck. Hux expected to get hit, and resigned himself to it, still too shaky from orgasm to be coordinated, but Dameron only kissed him, hard but not punishing.

He expected Dameron would bite him, would go for the injured lip, but he didn’t; he only kissed him, deep and intense but sweet, and he pulled away and opened his eyes and looked into Hux’s face. “You’re an asshole,” Dameron said, “and I hope we get to go to war one of these days, but that was a good fuck, Lieutenant Hux.”

“You know my name,” Hux said, too overstimulated to dissemble.

Dameron laughed. “Your guys only yelled it like eighty times during that fight,” he said. “Did you think I didn’t understand Basic, or something?”

“For a while there I think the only word you knew in any language was _fuck_ ,” Hux pointed out, wiping his hands on the sheets and threading his belt back through the loops.

“Fair point,” Dameron said, and grabbed a handful of the sheets to wipe himself off with. “Fuck, I’m gonna be all sticky now.”

“Mm,” Hux said, “I don’t know that I’d use the fresher in this place.”

“Yeah,” Dameron said, “I’m not going to chance it.” He rubbed at his jaw. “You definitely left some marks.”

“Wish I’d had a chance to leave more,” Hux said. He pulled his shirt back on. “But I adhered to the agreement. Whatever else you think of me, I keep my promises.”

“If only your leaders felt the same,” Dameron said darkly.

Hux laughed. “Oh,” he said, “I just don’t think you know about the real arrangements that were made. We’re quite in compliance where we’re truly required to be.” He smiled nastily. Dameron scowled.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” he said. He was still completely naked. They weren’t leaving together, clearly.

Hux considered for a moment, as he re-laced his shoes, that the friends who had been nearby enough that the pilot had been relying on them for backup might be waiting to jump him for some reason. “Well,” he said, “you can take out your frustrations on me, but it won’t do anyone any good.”

“No,” Dameron said, “it really wouldn’t.” He seemed so unworried. He lay back to pull his underwear up, and then reached off the edge of the bed to retrieve his trousers. Hux pulled his jacket on.

Well. Best to be direct. “If your friends are waiting to jump me,” he said.

Dameron glanced up, surprised, and it really looked like genuine surprise. “Oh,” he said, “they aren’t. I didn’t raise any alarm or anything, there’d be no point.” He frowned. “Why, would _your_ friends jump _me_?”

Hux fastened his jacket and looked around the room. But he hadn’t brought anything else, so there was nothing to have left behind. “I don’t have friends,” he said, and turned and left.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There's a part 2, that I started writing before I decided they'd actually hooked up in part 1 here. So it needs to get totally rewritten, pulled apart and put back together, and so I haven't decided how I'm handling that. Plus how to incorporate it into the background Finn/Poe/Rey that the main body of the epic is moving towards. So it'll happen, I just don't know when.  
> (hint: the more interest that is shown the more likely it is to get moved up the queue. I'm feeling shameless enough to point that out. Come talk to me on Tumblr or start up a discussion in comments here, I absolutely rely on that kind of psychic energy to suck enough life force to create these little stories.)
> 
> Sorry this wasn't filthier. Every more-filthy idea I had, Hux kind of vetoed. It turns out he's kind of a prude. He wanted to do research first. The jerk. 
> 
> I also haven't decided whether Hux acknowledged Poe on the Finalizer, or not. He may not have recognized him, but I bet he did.  
> And did Kylo pick up on that, or was he too distracted by the fact that he knew Poe too?
> 
> I FORGOT: also, credit is due to wyomingnot for cheerleading and inspiration!


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